Spirit, Take Her Hands
by JustClem
Summary: Rachel had always been the one in control. Not Chloe. Never Chloe. Even dead, she'd never let Chloe make a rash decision.


**Spirit, Take Her Hands**

_JustClem_

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...

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"Rachel!"

Chloe ran throughout the small, empty dark street towards the only source of light available; the lamp that showed off its yellow neon glow, and the phantom that stood below it, with her hands clasped behind and her gaze never leaving Chloe's form.

(If Chloe were in a better state of mind, she would've realized this was where they shared their first kiss.)

The longer she ran, the further away the world stretched, and the farther Rachel stood away from her. It was almost as if Rachel was stumbling back, moving away from her, unwilling to be with her, abandoning her. But that couldn't be right. Rachel would never do that to her.

Like a rubber band, it all stretched.

"NO!"

With a harrowing scream, claw-like nails needing desperately to dig into something, and all the strength she had hidden under her sleeve, Chloe painfully strode and crashed towards the girl that was too little, too frail, and too unmoving for her comfort.

Chloe inhaled, and let the scent of jasmine fill her lungs. It was more addictive than any drugs she'd ever tasted - the sweetness of the smell.

She wept happily with her hoarse, broken voice, repeating _Rachel_ over and over again as though it were the only mantra there was that could fix everything - as if repeating the name of the dead over and over would bring it back to life.

She broke down so badly she didn't notice the lamp above them dimming down until there was no more light, and only half-noticed the forlorn and bittersweet crushing Rachel's beautiful features, turning her older and more shattered than anyone ever should be.

Everything was too much.

"Chloe, please. Let me go."

Chloe sobbed, and not in misery, for she was not listening to her words.

Rather, she was simply glad that she was able to hear that beautiful voice again, even with how devastated it sounded. She'd forgotten how calming it was, like honey, and how similar it was to a lioness' purr.

"Oh, Rachel. My Rachel. My beautiful angel Rachel."

"I miss you, Chloe. So, so much."

If Chloe had thought she couldn't break into more pieces, then she had thought wrong.

"Rach…"

"Chloe."

The firmness in that tone - not to mention the way it cracked and heaved at the end - froze Chloe. She shivered, despite the lack of frosty wind. There was no wind at all, now that she dwelled on it. No branches jostled, and no leaves rustled. Wind was unwilling to accompany them. Or perhaps it simply had never existed, and was merely an unreal concept Chloe made up in her mind.

"Chloe, you can't stay here."

Responses clouded over her mind, begging her to use them in the most spiteful way imaginable. 'Bullshit' was one of them. 'Yes I fucking can, watch me', perhaps, and even 'You can't tell me what to do!' were options.

Toxic words meant to belittle and stomp on others were her Go-To, her first solution to every problem, and one that she used all-too-often. She used it as a crutch, almost as badly as alcohol and drugs, maybe even more so.

But no matter how easy it was to rely on the toxicity, Chloe would never, ever use it on her angel. She didn't want to hurt her. Not again. Not ever. Not anymore. Never.

So Chloe chased them all away with a wistful sigh, leaving the once thick and great clouds into small, trails of hazy fume, flowing away with but a direction.

Oh, how Chloe would kill for a cigarette right now. Or two. (You know what, fuck it! She needed a whole pack of 'em.)

"What do you mean I can't be here? I'm home. I'm with you. You're here, and you're home. You're my home, Rach."

Chloe hated the desperation lacing in her tone, like a leech. It sounded as though she didn't know how to function without her.

(Well, she didn't, it was true, but. Still.)

"Not anymore, Chloe."

A click resounded that sounded more like a gunshot in this eerily empty sidewalk. And the spotlight was no longer on Rachel. It was on something else, someone else, someone barely outside of Chloe's peripheral vision.

Chloe didn't look towards the light, to know who stood below it. She didn't want to. That would mean looking away from Rachel. And she didn't want to look away from Rachel. Not ever. She couldn't. She didn't know how. (She was too much of a coward.)

"Chloe, look away."

Chloe didn't know if she shook her head or uttered a low resounding "no" or both or neither, but she did know that her face had given away something, something in the likes of denial, for Rachel broke into a watery smile - beautiful and maddening, like an indecisive spiral that kept redirecting its course.

Her hand left Chloe's to trail the soft, feathery pads of her fingers down Chloe's face, as though painting the most beautiful and delicate art there was. From her forehead, through her eyes, making Chloe momentarily close them, letting a lonewolf of a stray tear fell, down to the lips (that Rachel must knew all-too-intimately), before those four fingers rested on her cheek, thumb at the edge of the chin.

"Chloe, you don't need me anymore."

"But I want you."

"You want her more."

It wasn't true. It couldn't be. Chloe refused to believe it, and would've shaken her head if not for the gentle fingers still cupping her face. "I need you. And I want you."

"No, Chloe-" and suddenly those soft hands weren't so delicate anymore, and they betrayed the unsuspecting Chloe, forced her to look away, with one strong tilt, into the light, where another girl stood, head drooped down, hugging herself, drenched, soaked, shivering, and so, so alone- _"she_ needs you."

A sob. And another. And another. Each one more lifeless than the last.

"I don't want to leave you." Even as those broken plea left her mouth, Chloe couldn't help but keep on staring, memorizing, roaming her eyes around that small frame - and every curve that shaped it - that damp, short hair, and how dim her light was, flickering all-too-often.

It was unlike Rachel's own light, which was always bright, full of strength, with or without Chloe. Rachel didn't need her to help brighten her light, her hope, her soul. (Rachel didn't need her, period.)

"You're not. You won't be."

Chloe wanted to turn her head, to look at her one last time, to see the girl she loved again, even if only a glance. But Rachel was persistent, resolute, and Chloe was too weak to put in one drop of effort.

Rachel had always been the one in control. Not Chloe. Never Chloe. Even dead, she'd never let Chloe make a rash decision.

"Rachel…" Her lips quivered and she choked on her words. She couldn't utter comprehensive words. She couldn't even think comprehensive thoughts.

"Travel the world, Chloe. Travel with her by your side until you've reached the corners of the world, and travel again, for it is your mere prologue."

A kiss so soft and full of yearning brushing at her cheeks. Fingers travelling up and resting on her shoulder, drawing circular patterns that soother Chloe more than words ever could.

"Spirit, take her hands, and live. Live for us, Chloe Price. Live to make sure Arcadia Bay never forgets the flame of Rachel Amber. Live to tell the greatest tale of all; the tale of us."

And one small push was all Chloe needed to chase down her new purpose, her new reason to live, her everything, and light escalated into existence as the sun rose beyond the horizon and into the clouds and casted warmth upon her, bright and glowing and full of hope as she reached her destination.

...

It was the dampness that first registered. Dampness caused by something liquid and salty dripping down her cheeks, trailing down to meet her lips.

Then, it was a voice. Her voice.

"-oe, please, Chloe, don't do this to me, don't you dare do this to me!"

Chloe's hand twitched as it yearned to touch her and shoo away her sadness. That was when she registered the bottle of pills still grasped in her hand.

She let it go - and it rolled down the wooden, creaking floor - never to glance at it, much less thought of using it again.

"Max…"

Max gasped, and looked down, and Chloe's heart broke all over again at how horrible she looked.

Max's lips quivered, and she looked as though she was about to scream and laugh at once. Chloe let out a small, clipped gasp as a pair of fists collided with her chest.

"How could you do this to me?! Huh?! How?! Why?! Why, why, why?! After everything!"

Chloe was too weak, too frail to say anything. All she could do was breathe in, and breathe out, and kept on fighting, not for her, but for Rachel, who wanted her to live, and Max, who needed her.

She closed her eyes, and no longer dreamed of Rachel anymore. It was alright, though. It was alright.

(It wasn't. It would never be.)

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...

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_Author's Note_

I think I might've written this all throughout my classes, and added the ending on my laptop as I was editing the story. This was very emotional for me to write. I think I almost cried or screeched in the sheer sadness that I felt. I love both Amberprice and Pricefield, and while I don't know if Amberpricefield would work considering we've never seen Rachel and Max interact before (apart from the comics, which doesn't really give me much of anything to work with), I sometimes ship them. Both Rachel and Max have an impact on Chloe's live, and I think that's the reason why it's hard for me to choose my number one OTP. This has never happened to me with any other shows/games/movies, which is strange. (But then again, so is life.)

I hope this story gave you ~_Da Feels(tm)~_, and I hope you have a good day.


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